Dialectic
by section42
Summary: Thrawn is a complicated character. Hera is a more straightforward heroine. But the intersection between the Imperial Grand Admiral and the Rebel starfighter ace is a very interesting place indeed. Chapter 3 of 3 now posted! COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

"Do you ever think," Thrawn asked her, "what happens when you blow up a Star Destroyer?"

"The Empire loses a little bit more of the ability to hurt people," she responded, stubbornly. She was already armoured against this line of reasoning.

"There are over thirty thousand service personnel aboard an _Imperial_-class ship," Thrawn said, quietly. "Conscripts, naive idealists, young people who believe sincerely in their cause, no matter how much you might disagree."

"That only makes the Empire worse," she shrugged.

"And they have siblings, former roommates, friends, home systems, senators."

"Most of whom have no more love for the Empire than I do," she responded.

"And you think they'll love you for what you do, Commander?" Thrawn is amused, a note she's not heard before.

"When the Empire's gone-" She sighs, and looks down at her boots. "We have to fight."

"But why like this?" Thrawn asks her. "Why make a system like Lothal into a battleground, why justify the actions of a woman like Arihnda Pryce?"

She wants to object that the Empire's economic exploitation of Lothal, and a thousand other systems, isn't something that can be stopped by just lying down, but she knows that's not his point. "You think we're fighting this war wrong," she says. "_That's_ why you fight against us."

Thrawn is smiling now. The most human look she's ever seen from him. "I don't just _think_ you're doing this wrong, Commander. I know exactly the effect you're having."

"Then how would you-?!" She bites her answer short, realising that he's baited her. Realising that asking an Imperial Grand Admiral how he would fight against the Empire is absurd... but only because the answer is already, disorientingly obvious.

"Really, Commander?" he laughs. "You still need to ask?"


	2. Chapter 2

"So let me get this straight," she says. "You want me to hit you in the face?"

"I want you to try." Thrawn nods, as if acknowledging that she might succeed. Or perhaps that's just what he does when he's trying not to smile.

"Okay," she weighs him up, flicking back her lekku, dancing a little closer. She's better in an X-wing, but she's still good at this.

And she can be _very_ serious when she needs to be. She does't smile at times like this.

Thrawn steps back. He's changed out of his white Grand Admiral's uniform, into a black jumpsuit of some sort - almost plain, but cut to emphasise his trim physique, and with flashes of angular red design that seem to pattern outwards from the asymmetric seams.

He's changed his body-language, too. There's still something disconcertingly upright in his poise, but less of the stand-offish martinet she's used to hating. More of a fighter. More like her.

"I like this version of you better," she remarks.

"I aim to please."

She frowns a bit at that. Is this him adapting his behaviour to what she thinks she will respond to?

"You still haven't convinced me this is the real you," she reminds him. To tell the truth, she's playing him here, just as much as he's playing her. "You might just be trying to bring me over to the Empire's side."

"I don't think the Emperor has much use for Twi'lek X-wing pilots," he suggests, with the clear implication that his own opinions differ.

"I don't have much time for people who're on personal terms with tyrants," she retorts. "Even if they think I'd be a useful... asset."

Another nod. Is he baiting her, trying to get her to overreact?

_Never kickbox against a Grand Admiral_. That should be a thing.

"Stand still and let me try to hit you," she offers, stepping back a pace, seeing what he does.

Those red eyes flicker. A slight smile, once again.

"You just wanted to watch me move."

"Isn't that how most encounters like this begin?"

She glares. Drops out of her combat stance.

"First, I want answers. Who are you _really_?" She's treating him like a rookie pilot now, she realises. That thought makes her feel good. In control.

"That's what I'm helping you work out," Thrawn answers, cool. "I'm really not sure how well I can explain myself."

"False modesty, for one thing."

"Your conclusions interest me, Commander."

"For what they say about me? Or what they might tell you about yourself?"

"Both. Among other things. And besides, you are as capable of doing this to me as I am to you."

"Doesn't feel like it," she lies. She's as good as he is at hiding behind her role.

A flicker of his eyes. He read the subterfuge in a twitch of her body language. "Stop doing that."

"I can try." Is that a lie? "But you seem to me to be all too comfortable with your simple narrative of Rebels and Imperials, the virtuous Ryder Azadi against the vile Arihnda Pryce."

She snorts at that, unladlyike. "Azadi's a good leader, but I'd never call him virtuous."

"Governor Pryce had her human side as well. Even if the Empire went a long way to concealing that."

There's almost sadness in his tone now. Hera frowns. She'd have expected him to blame the woman's character flaws on the Rebellion.

"But I will admit." The posture shifts, and he's an Imperial Admiral again. "Playing with people's expectations can sometimes be... amusing."

She makes a noise at that.

And then, with a grin, she tries to hit him.


	3. Chapter 3

Hera jabs, and Thrawn feints, blocks and dodges.

"Why aren't you fighting back," she growls. The words come out like _stand still and let me hit you_.

She's landed a few good shots. There's a nice bruise on his left cheekbone, and she's connected a couple of kicks around his waist that she hopes are starting to hurt and slow his footwork down a bit. But his defensive attitude, giving ground and leading her around the training room, is really starting to annoy her.

"I don't want to interrupt your combinations."

"You're enjoying watching me move?" She swings harder, wanting to _hurt_ him on that one, and not make it look fancy. She's disappointed that he sways back out of reach.

"To be honest," he says, and sounds a little out-of-breath. "I'm too busy trying to dodge."

"Good." She moves in harder, two-fisted now, with a little footwork to keep him off his balance. She hates the idea that he sees something aesthetic in her behaviour, hates the thought that maybe he can't _help_ looking at her that way.

She knocks his jaw back. He makes a noise, an actual _oof!_

She grins wickedly at that. "The _only_ person," she says, as he blocks a low punch towards his guts. "Who was allowed to look at me like that." She tries for a waist-high sidways kick, confident she's thrown him off his balance enough. "Was Kanan."

She's miscalculated. Somehow, Thrawn spun away from that last move, and something - a deft parry, an upwards chop, the rush of air as he twisted, or simply her own off-balance weight, without the expected contact to act as a brake on her momentum - means she can't recover from the move. She tumbles over, lands on her back.

Thrawn looks at her. Inscrutable as ever, but she's sure he's trying very hard not to laugh.

"Not the time," she says, silencing him with a deadly glare. She's surprised that seems to bring him under control. "Stop pretending to be nice," she sighs, standing and dusting herself down. The only thing she's bruised is her ego.

"You blame the Empire, naturally," he says.

"Yes," she breathes. _That should be kriffing obvious_. "Yes, I do."


End file.
